


One quiet night at Shady Belle

by Nigaki



Series: Tamed West [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Chapter 4: Saint Denis (Red Dead Redemption 2), Established Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Kissing, Loyalty, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Self-Hatred, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21692428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nigaki/pseuds/Nigaki
Summary: After getting Jack back, John and Arthur leaves the party to spend some time together before they're dragged back to the reality of their life.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Series: Tamed West [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1585225
Comments: 6
Kudos: 82





	One quiet night at Shady Belle

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pewnej cichej nocy w Shady Belle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20223541) by [Nigaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nigaki/pseuds/Nigaki). 



> Hello and welcome to my humble fic. I usually don't write in English, because it's terrible and I can't write. Okay, that's not true, but I'm not that confident with it, since I'm no native speaker and I practically learned everything by myself while reading fics trough the translator. Good times. 
> 
> That being said, I apologize for any mistakes, there is probably a lot of them but I really wanted to share this story. I's a part of the whole series that is written in Polish currently, so there might be a few things mentioning stuff that didn't happen in the game, because I've written them in the other stories about my two favorite boys. One explains why Arthur doesn't have TB, the other shows John handling Arthur's kidnapping by Colms man. And another one is a chapter 6 of the game rewritten to accommodate Morston and Arthur being healthy. Maybe one day I'll translate them as well, who knows. 
> 
> For now I only bring one of the shortest stories, a little fic inspired by this pretty drawing https://whydoihavetotellmyname.tumblr.com/post/186141275910/one-quiet-night-at-shady-bell  
> It's because of the author I decided to translate the original story to English, so I can show her how much I love her art and how much it inspires me.
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy this small fic I'm very proud of. I'm really nervous posting this, I hope I won't die from a heart attack.

Those were hard three days. Their gang was just one big mess. Dutch was trying to keep them calm and optimistic like nothing has happened of course, but so far it didn’t work. John didn’t know if the man was just naïve or hopeful, but he was leaning more toward the first option.

It’s difficult to be positive when two of your friends comes back from a mission, with a third dumped over the horse back like a deer and without a half of his face. It’s impossible to be calm when a panicking mother is keeping the whole camp on edge because her son was kidnapped.

His son.

Most of the time, John ignored Jack ever since he was born. His crying was irritating when the boy was still a newborn, he sometimes kept the camp awake for the whole night. When he grow up a little, he became noisy, sticking his nose everywhere, even in John’s tent where he was touching his stuff and Abigail did nothing to stop the kid. Probably out of spite.

He felt nothing toward this boy except for indifference. Still, he wished he doesn’t have to look at him or listen to him in those rare moment when Jack was brave enough to talk to his father. If it weren’t for Abigail’s pressure, he would probably be more willing to take care of this kid. Maybe he would even be kind to him like Arthur, who was lucky enough to only be an uncle to Jack, just like the rest of the man in the gang. 

John has no luck and was chosen for a father. He has no idea how Abigail knew it was him, she couldn’t be that sure of this, even with her female intuition or some other magic not known for man. The more she wanted him to take actions in raising Jack, the more he hated the idea.

If the boy turned out to be his son, that would mean that John Marston screwed up again and he has no intention to admit to another failure. Besides, he never wanted a kid anyway. He didn’t mind helping sometimes, taking care of him, but only as another uncle, not a father by blood. Fatherhood was too big of a role for him.

For four years he pushed Jack away. He treated him like a stranger kid, a son of someone else, not his own. Sometimes he thought about being Jack’s father, how it would feel like, what would he do but he always felt guilty at the end. It made him stop immediately and allowed to get back to the mindset where he doesn’t have to care for another human being and teach the kid everything he knows, like any good father would do.

Those thoughts never made him change his mind, it was always only hypothetical. Until two days ago, when he was standing on the shore, thinking with fondness about every small heist he did with Sean over the years. It was then when Abigail came to him, asking if he have seen Jack anywhere.

His first reaction was getting angry at her for disturbing his grief. He wasn’t in the mood for another arguing about how he should start acting like a man, but before he could tell her to leave him alone, she asked the same question again. He saw the fear in her eyes then, heard it in her voice. She wasn’t asking tricky question, it wasn’t some plan to make him admit he’s the father. It was a serious situation.

They joined the rest of the gang as fast as possible, disturbing the ominous silence that hovered over the camp since they buried Sean nearby. Abigail and him started asking about Jack but no one knew where he was, they haven’t see him. Micah suggested that maybe he drowned like his daddy almost drowned all those years ago.

It was just a joke, one that no one laughed at, but still a joke. John couldn’t help himself and looked toward the lake, feeling fear griping his throat. Not because he was afraid of water but because he was scared something happened to Jack. For the first time ever.

He was so surprised by that he didn’t even notice when Kieran joined them, speaking quietly about something to Hosea. Arthur arrived in the camp at the same time, completely clueless about everything that happened when he was mourning in peace outside of the camp.

Abigail was hysterical at this point. Even Dutch joined them after hearing her panic, finally leaving his tent. He swore to her they will get Jack, who according to Kieran, was kidnapped by Braithwaites.

John hurt his hands, he was curling them into fist so hard. Braithwaites. He was planning to remember this name for the rest of his life so he can kill every one of them, no matter when in America they might be. What kind of monsters kidnaps a innocent child? What for? If those inbreed scums managed to get into the camp, why didn’t they just attack, why focusing all their attention on a single boy who wasn’t responsible for anything his father did?

If they wanted revenge, they should have get John for stealing their horses, not Jack. Jack didn’t do anything wrong. Not ever, he was too young yet to become a sinner like the rest of them. He was just a child, still pure, without even a grain of bad in him.

Just a innocent boy that John treated like a plague.

Anger in him mixed with shame when the gang was ridding toward Braithwaites manor. Every gunman except Micah was there, they went without being asked to help. Every one of them loved Jack to some extent. Except him, the one man who should love him unconditionally.

John looked at Arthur who was ridding beside him. The man was already staring at him, his eyes sharp and focused, face tense and with the haunted look. It all disappeared for a moment when they looked at each other. It didn’t last long but it was enough to calm Johns nerves a little. They’ll get Jack back. For Abigail.

And for him.

The closer they were, the more furious he become. John was ready to bust into the manor and shoot everyone on sight. He knew he has to calm down, Jack needed a responsible father who will save him, not some crazy gunslinger.

He was sure they’ll find him in one of the many rooms, and then John will hug the boy while telling him how sorry he was for those four years. Instead of Jack, they only find more Braithwaites.

He watched with pleasure when the fire was destroying their home, with many bodies inside, forever trapped under the rubble. John wanted so badly to shoot the devilish woman that gave birth to all of those rats, but using a bullet on her would only be a waste. They knew what happened to Jack, they had to go and find him now. Catherine Braithwaite had to watch how everything precious was taken from her, just like she took what’s precious to John and Abigail. 

Ridding together with Arthur and shooting a few man next day helped John to calm down. He was far from feeling relief, especially since they have to worry about Pinkertons again, but not every breath brought pain anymore and hands stopped shaking so much.

They killed everyone who was in their new hideout and brought the rest of the gang soon after. He would gladly skip the whole moving problem and go to Saint Denis right away, but they had to make sure everyone is safe first till they bring back Jack. So John didn’t complain to Dutch at any point during getting settled. He was faking how calm he was, while shaking on the inside. 

Worse than his own fear, was watching Abigail. She was scarred all the time, hasn’t sleep since the kidnapping. It was only because of his pride he didn’t look like her at this point. He needed to be strong for her. 

It was hard to imagine how one kidnapping changed how he looked at Jack. How quick the change was. From indifference to fear in a few seconds, the same second during which Abigail repeated her question that still haunted his mind.

“Have you seen Jack?”

Abigail was so scared then, like he have never seen her before. He understood this fear perfectly, because he felt it too. He has no idea how did it happened. Almost like, all this time he could subconsciously feel that Jack was his son, he just denied it. Out of fear and because he was stupid. How did Arthur put it few weeks ago?

“You’re always running from responsibilities, John.”

He couldn’t be more right.

Whatever the reason was, he wasted four years on acting like a bastard. Instead of spending every free moment with his son, he ignored him. Instead of teaching him, he preferred drinking. Instead of playing with him, he put his entertainment first.

He thought about it in their new camp, waiting for an order to do something. He could almost see it. Himself, raising Jack, taking care of him. It brought him some peace in those disturbing times.

John now understood why Arthur was so angry at him whenever they talked about Jack. All this time he was pushing away something special and when he finally realized it, it could be already too late. He probably lost the only chance to be a father. He will never apologize to Jack now. And because of what? Because of fear, pride, ignorance.

Even if they get Jack back, John didn’t deserve him. The boy should have a better father. Everyone in the camp would be better than Jack’s actual father, who like a fool was disowning him for four years, acting like a child himself, not like a man he was, or thought he was.

He still was a bad father. Instead of going to Saint Denis right away, he let Dutch and Arthur clean his mess. They were gone for two hours now, trying to find Jack while John was sulking in the camp, feeling sorry for himself.

Enough of sitting and doing nothing, when he could be doing something.

John left the house quickly, going right to his horse before Abigail stopped him.

“John…”

“I’m going to Saint Denis,” he said to Abigail, walking around her to get to Old Boy. She followed him.

“John, if something…”

“I’ll get our son back, Abigail,” he promised, turning to her. He gripped her arms, she was shaking but that stopped when he touched her. Despite her eyes being full of tears, she smiled a little after his words, until worry took over her again.

He hoped she understood what he was saying right now.

_I’m sorry. For everything. I’ll be a better father from now on, if you let me. I’ll take care of him, of you. Nothing will ever happen to him again._

Right after arriving in Saint Denis, he started looking for Arthur, but only found Dutch. Together they went to this Bronte fella and Arthur joined them not long after.

Bronte was a strange man. Something in him made John feeling uneasy. Maybe because he was Italian and obviously he was acting different that any American. Like decedent of an ancient emperors, or whoever Italians thought they were.

They succeeded in not getting killed and made a deal. Suspiciously quick. Even a blind man would know that doing a little favor for Bronte won’t be enough, not in a long way. But blind AND desperate, now that was someone who would think they have upper hand in this. Like Dutch.

Their leader saw an opportunity in this new business relationship. No doubt he already counted all the money they can get from it, while at the same time ignoring the pile of shit that would come with it and how it will add to the already existing pile the gang was swimming in since they run from Blackwater. John and Arthur had bad feelings about it. 

Unfortunately they had no time to argue about it, they’ve got a favor to do. Like a common servant, they did everything Bronte told them to, having no choice but to obey. It was humiliating, bending their knees for some arrogant rich man they should steel form, not work for. They were outlaws, bandits, not some mercenaries or man to do the dirty work. They answer to no one.

The only reason John and Arthur were going with this plan, was for Jack, who was waiting for them when they get back an hour later.

John remembered the day when Jack was born and he saw him for the first time. He looked at the newborn just for a moment, feeling nothing but need to get away. He didn’t even took him when Grimshaw tried to encourage him to hold his son.

“He’s not my son,” he said at that time.

When he saw Jack after the kidnapping, the only words that he could think of were “That’s my son!”

He would never forget the joy in Jack’s eyes, his smile when the boy run to him, right into John’s welcoming arms. He picked his son up and held him tight, feeling such happiness he almost cried, but managed to only breathe a sigh of a relief. When the boy wrapped his arms around John’s neck, he hugged him even harder, never again wanting to let go. Jack was safe with him. John could protect him like that.

Smiling, Arthur watched them from the side with a yearning look in his eyes. John smiled back and went back to hugging his boy.

This is what John was missing all this time. He had no idea a simple hug from his son would be so wonderful. He could feel Jack’s love when the boy was clinging to him. If this was how being a father felt like, he was even more of a fool for rejecting this than he thought.

He could have had all this years ago, from the beginning. Experience so many amazing things that he missed for good, because he can only see his future with Arthur, not any woman who could give him another child.

There be no more missed moments. He never saw Jack’s first steps or heard his first words but he’ll be by his side to teach him to write, count, ride a horse, shoot or hunt. He’ll teach him everything, watching with pride his boy growing up and turning into a man.

Because Jack was his son, he has no doubt about it. 

John looked into the boy’s eyes, seeing the familiar glint he always saw whenever he looked into the mirror. How could he not seen this before? How could he be so blind?

Enough of denial. Jack’s kidnapping opened his eyes like any Abigail’s words never could. He finally appreciated what faith gave him, something not every man could have or what was taken from them without giving them second chance. 

After three days, the horror ended and everyone could rest, especially Abigail. When they returned Jack to her, she cried, then laughed, and cried again before she calmed down enough to check Jack for any wounds or harm.

Abigail thanked all of them. She didn’t have to do this, it was John’s responsibility as a father to get the boy back. He tried to tell her that without using words and he was sure he succeeded when she smiled just at him, before taking Jack with her to celebrate with the whole gang.

Arthur patted him on the back, joining the celebration as well. Soon, John was sitting by the fire too, accepting the bottle of beer he was offered. He could finally relax.

The longer he sat with his small family, the more stress from the last days was leaving his body and mind. Jack was sitting in Abigail’s laps, talking with excitement about Italian man, about how brave he was while being kept by Bronte and how he knew his pa was coming for him.

The warmth filled John’s chest when he heard the last words. Jack should hate his father for how he was treated by him. Instead of that, he believed in him. John didn’t know what he did to deserve a son like that but he promised himself, right here and then, to be more grateful for it and fix every mistake he made over the years.

He still has no idea how to be a father but he was willing to try now. He didn’t want to hear ever again how Jack called other man “papa”. He wanted to see joy on his face after returning to the boy, hug him to greet him.

He wanted all of this, because Jack deserves that. To have a father. John wanted this for himself, too. He wanted to know how it feel to be the most important person to a child. Be the whole world for him, the source of answers to all his questions.

It was a beautiful dream. 

Maybe it was all the liquor or just undescribed joy from getting Jack back, but out of nowhere he felt overwhelmed by everything that happened. He swallowed a sob that was threatening to escape his throat and made a quick escape before he could start crying in front of everyone, giving them reason to mock him for the next few years.

He wobbled a little while walking to the house but he got inside. He gulped the rest of his beer he took with him and left the bottle on a small table in the corner. John cursed when his eyes started to sting a little, but a couple of deep breaths helped him calm down and stop the tears, but not the fear that came back all of sudden. Now instead of sobs, there was a vomit wanting to be let out. He blamed this one on alcohol.

They drank a lot already, everyone was too happy to have Jack home to count how many bottles they emptied. The gang was drunk, people became more bold and willing to dance and sing. Javier was playing on his guitar, some happy song John was able to hear even inside the house, just like the laughs and loud conversation between his drunk friends.

Everyone was having fun, and here John was, scarred again and unfortunately sobered up because of it. Breathing heavily, he put a hand against the wall to not collapse. On the floor, he could still see a stain left by blood of a man he killed yesterday, dealing with anger that bottled up inside him after Jack’s kidnapping. 

It was only coming to him now how close he was to losing his son. Anger and desperation prevented him earlier from worrying too much, from thinking about what will happen if they don’t save Jack. He only thought about hurting people that kidnapped his son and the ones that he was sold to.

Now his imagination went wild. John closed his eyes just for a moment, but it was enough to see Jack’s corpse, a hole from a bullet in his forehead. Or with slit throat, naked, blue and pale from being underwater too much. One time the body was on the floor, in the main hall of Braithwaite’s manor, waiting for John’s arrival like a greeting gift. The other time it was at Bronte’s, laying on one the couches like a rug. Then it was in the dark alley in Saint Denis, thrown on a pile of garbage, or washed on the shore of a lake in Clemens Point. 

So many thing could have gone wrong, in so many moment they could have found Jack dead. The kidnapping should have never happened at all. None of this would happened if John only acted like a father since day one.

Jack was okay or at least seemed that way, but there is no way he wasn’t scared by all of this when he has no idea what was happening and why someone took him from his mother, from the gang that was like a family to him. No child should get through any of this. No child should wonder if they just saw their parents for the last time or if they’re alone in this world now. John knew too well how scary it is, to lose a parent as a child and suddenly be on your own. 

“You’ all right?”

Arthur must have took advantage of music and John’s loud breathing, because John didn’t even heard him when he appeared. He was hearing him now, every step the older man was taking until he was right beside John, placing a hand on his arm.

John held his breath when after a second, Arthur’s hand found its way to John’s hair, touching it gently and with care, without any hidden motive behind it, just bringing comfort John was grateful for. 

“Yeah.” John straightened himself which only caused Arthur to take his hand away. Thankfully, he didn’t move from his spot. His presence was calming John, helping him forget all those visions he just had. “I just… I never thought I would worry so much about Jack.”

A few days ago, he would’ve laugh at anyone who would suggest that. There was no need to laugh in him now, only shame.

“I told you.”

John looked at Arthur, and just like he was expecting, the older man was smirking.

“You did.” He was in a good mood again, a smile appeared on his face. “You going to brag about it all the time now?”

“I like it when people admit I was right,” Arthur answered and shoved John with his shoulder.

John smiled, amused.

“You were right,” he admitted again. “I’m sorry it took me this long to realize.”

“You should apologize to Abigail, not me,” Arthur suggested. “And to your son.”

Your son. His son. Son.

“My son,” he repeated. His throat felt dry all of sudden. “Shit, Arthur, I almost lost him. I think… I think I love him.”

He has no idea ha the love of a father is supposed to feel, he was always only a son. All this was so new to him, he didn’t know how to handle this, if this even is love and not just o concern he would show for any other child in danger. How was he supposed to know that? No one ever taught him that.

Arthur knew.

“That’s good.” There was a pride in Arthur’s voice. He was not bothered by Johns panic.

“If something ever happen to him, I won’t forgive myself.”

“Hey, everything is all right.” Arthur tried to calm him down quickly. He grasped John’s palms, who immediately entwined their fingers, not knowing what else to do with his hands. “Jack’s with us now and I promise I won’t let anything happen to him again.”

There was only honesty in Arthur’s voice and eyes. John looked at him and nodded, squeezing his hand before they let go.

“Me too,” he added after a while. “I will protect him till my last breath. He’s my family. Like you, like Abigail. Hosea.”

Arthur didn’t comment on no mention of Dutch. John didn’t even think of him. With each passing day, they were both losing faith in their leader. Jack’s kidnapping didn’t help with their situation, and blind faith was getting it’s sight back, slowly but surely.

“Thank you for helping with finding Jack.”

John looked at his lover with appreciation, taking small step toward him. They were already standing close, but now the tips of their shoes touched, and chests almost grazed against each other with every deep breath.

Without Arthur by his side, John would have done something stupid long ago, when they just found out about Jack’s disappearance. Just his presence kept John’s head clear when they stormed Braithwaite’s manor, and later in Saint Denis, first during meeting with Bronte and then on the cemetery. 

He wanted to show his gratitude but because words could not express what he wanted to tell, instead of using them, he put his arms around Arthur’s waist and bring him even closer, so close their bodies touched. Arthur’s hands were on John’s face instantly, bringing him to a welcoming kiss.

They didn’t rush it, this kiss had nothing to do with lust, they just wanted to feel each other, share their feeling in the best way possible. John put as many gratitude and relief he can in this kiss, wanting to show Arthur how much he appreciated his help and how much the older man means to him. 

In return, John got the same relief but also happiness and love he never get tired of during kissing. He never felt more alive than in moments like this, when they could only feel each other.

Arthur started it and he finished it, nipping at John’s lip before pulling away with a sigh of content. He kept his hands on John’s cheeks, stroking them gently with a smile.

“It was my pleasure,” he answered finally, stepping back and taking his hands from John’s face. “I love this kid, too.”

John would be surprised if it was any different.

He smiled back at Arthur and looked into his eyes, not being able to look away. The last time they were so shiny and full of joy was when they hunted a white bison, just the two of them. It was a long time ago, he was afraid he would never see his lover this happy again, not with everything that was happening in their life, with little to no reason to rejoice.

Jack’s return let them both be happy again. They would rather have different reason to celebrate than the saving of a kidnapped child, but the party that was still going on let them forget for a moment that Mac died beaten by Pinkertons, Jenny die from a bullet after the escape from Blackwater, Davey was buried high in the mountains and under the snow, and Sean finally stopped talking when half of his face was shot off.

For one night, their gang was okay again, just like in the best of times.

“We should get back to the others,” John suggested when their friends erupted with laughter outside.

If they don’t get back now, someone may start suspect something.

“Stay,” Arthur said when John tried to walk around him. The older man caught his wrist before taking John’s hand in his. John’s heart jumped in his chest. “Everyone is too drunk to notice we’re gone.” 

It was hard to say no when those blue eyes were looking at him with such hope. John didn’t want to leave anyway.

“You sure?”

Between the two of them, it was Arthur who kept them both in line so no one would catch them kissing around the camp. He always made sure that whatever they’re doing it’s never long, just a quick pecks on the lips when no one is looking, innocent touches, sometimes below the waist. Nothing more obvious and not that close to the others when anyone could walk on them at any moment. The alcohol must have made him braver if he wanted to stay here and do… something.

Arthur didn’t even drink that much tonight, not like the others, but it was enough to bring color to his cheeks. Or maybe it was because of something else. John couldn’t remember if Arthur was already that red at the beginning of their talk. 

“Dance with me,” Arthur asked suddenly. He did it so fast John almost didn’t understand him.

“What?”

Arthur squeezed his hand and smiled. The blush on his face was deeper now. Not waiting for an answer, he tugged John closer to him. John realized then, that he’s blushing too, as the warmth slowly spread through his entire face.

“Dance with me,” Arthur repeated himself, moving them to the center of the room, to the spot with a slightly smaller mess. Not a perfect place for dancing, but John’s legs moved on their own after Arthur and he couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to. “Come on.”

He wanted to do that. They never danced together before, maybe only when they were drunk, and only something stupid. Arthur didn’t have to tell what kind of dance he has in mind. The slow one, the same kind couples in love would dance in a great ball room at the ball thrown by some wealthy folks.

They were only in love. They didn’t have a ball room, only an old and shabby building in the middle of a swamp, and their ball was a simple party with a bunch of drunks and bandits, but it didn’t make John any less excited when he let himself be drawn with a smile to Arthur. This time his lover didn’t move with him and when John was close enough, Arthur wrapped his free hand around John’s waist.

“What if someone see us?” It worried John. He tried to keep his worries buried under the giddy feeling in his chest, but the fear still emerged to the surface.

“No one will, ” Arthur assured him. He moved his hand a little higher on John’s waist, gripped his hand more firmly. “I wanna dance with you.”

God only knows why but John wasn’t going to question this. He wanted this, too, more than he thought. Still smiling, he put his hand on Arthur’s arm and get even closer so there was only a little bit of space between them or even none at all.

After a lot of drinks, Javier was in a melancholic mood, playing only slow songs now. Not that anyone was sober enough to dance anyway. John and Arthur could still hear the guitar inside the house, even more so when they focused on the sound.

Arthur moved first, John right after, repeating his steps. They weren’t good dancers but when they started, it was surprisingly easy, their steps light despite lacking grace. Looking right into each other’s eyes, they moved to the music, being careful to not trip over anything.

John was simply charmed right now. He shared many wonderful moment with Arthur but never like this. Music was racing through his body, making it shiver to the rhythm, just like the heart was beating to it. Arthur was leading, holding John firmly and close, not taking any chance of him getting away. It could hardly be described as dance. There was more walking, making small circles and just swinging slightly to the music. 

Dance itself, John realized, was not important right now. It was the intimacy, starring into each other’s eyes and calmness that was coming from it. That’s what counted to them. Their dance was probably the ugliest dance ever, but that didn’t change how amazing it was to be in each other’s arms like that and just had fun like any other pair of lovers.

It was great to try something new and something so liberating. John was not able to fully describe it but he felt free and caged at the same time. Dance allowed him to forget about where they were and why, but Arthur’s gaze kept him on the ground, not letting him fly away free, not alone.

John was always wild and untamed, but this kind of chain he didn’t mind.

Despite the slow and calm music, John felt oddly energetic. His hand was shaking in Arthur’s grip, just like Arthur’s in his. Their breathing was uneven and shaky like their hands. Every other second, John could feel the shiver going down his spine, a weird impulse that each time made him go faster and with a verve. They just couldn’t stop dancing.

John never thought it would be this exciting, bringing this much joy. In this moment, in Arthur’s arms, he was the happiest man in the world right now. They both were – sparks in their eyes, hearts soaring. 

Time stopped for them, John was afraid to even blink and ruin the moment, this whole night. They just danced and danced. At some point, Arthur changed the positions of their hands and now John was leading the dance, not knowing exactly what he was doing, more focused on his lover’s soft gaze and his sweet smile, just enjoying the moment.

Arthur started humming the melody Javier was playing. John laughed, not bothered that the laugh sounded more like a giggle. With a wide smile he wrapped his arm tighter around Arthur’s waist, bringing him closer, squeezing their bodies together. They weren’t able to move freely like this, but they could put their foreheads against each other. 

Just swinging now to the music, they breathed out, still keeping the eye contact, not even for a moment they looked away. They only closed them a little but didn’t let them shut completely. They weren’t ready for the moment to end, to separate their bodies that were so close it was hard to tell with every movement who moved first.

All of John’s worries vanished, even Jack disappeared from his mind. He just wanted to stay with Arthur and dance forever, for the rest of their life. He felt free, happy. He wished he could have this every day, a normal life, a steady life. But the only steady thing in his life right now was a chance of dying at any moment. 

The dancing was making him free only for now. Unless they do something about it.

“Let’s run away,” he whispered, leaning more toward Arthur and brushing their lips together, which send shiver down their spines. “You, me, Abigail and Jack. Right now. Let’s leave all this, it’s not safe anymore.”

“I know,” Arthur agreed. John knew by only the tone of his voice, that Arthur will refuse. “But we can’t leave.”

“We can.” John was too desperate to give up. “Jack was kidnapped, you almost died. Twice. Who will be in danger next? Me? Abigail? Someone else? What needs to happen to make you change your mind?”

Arthur gripped him by the forearms and pushed him away a little. Just a bit, but to John, it suddenly felt like they’re standing on the opposite ends of the room. Their dance was over and with it, the freedom they couldn’t have, only a taste of it.

“I won’t run away like a coward when there are still woman in the camp,” Arthur explained with calm but firm voice. “And what about Lenny? Hosea? Or Charles? We can’t leave them and start a new life when they will fight for theirs.”

He understood, he really did. John didn’t want to leave all those people neither. He would happily take almost the whole gang with them if it was possible, so they could finally be safe, far away from Dutch’s crazier and crazier plans. But it wasn’t possible and Johns honor was stopping him from abandoning their friends, especially woman.

It was easier to run away the first time, when he knew he’s going to come back to Arthur one day. Now this wasn’t the part of the plan and just like Arthur, he was too loyal to just flee.

“I know,” John assured Arthur honestly, but still heartbroken. “I know.”

Arthur stepped back slowly and then again, until his grip on John slipped and he just left the room without any words, leaving John alone.

John took a deep breath and brushed his hair before tugging at them harshly with frustration.

Why can’t they just run? Why can’t they be free?

Releasing the breath he was holding, John walked outside, dragging his foots with every step he took. The party slowed down already but some gang members were still conscious and even talking. Arthur was sitting hunched by the fire, John sat on the other side, looking at him through the flames till the older man felt it and looked up. 

John heart stopped for a moment when he saw sadness in Arthur’s blue eyes that now shinned only because of the flames in front of them. They both wanted freedom so much but couldn’t just run away.

Not yet.

 _One day_ , John promised to himself and Arthur, looking at him with sorrow before the older man bowed his head again. _One day we will dance in our own house. We will dance every night if we want to. I promise._


End file.
